


Meet Me in Montana

by Zoelily



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean/Cas Reverse Bang, Hunter Dean Winchester, M/M, Magical Elements, Pre-Canon, Pre-Season/Series 01, Witch Castiel (Supernatural)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2020-05-18 19:22:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19340995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zoelily/pseuds/Zoelily
Summary: When Dean and Castiel cross paths during a vampire case in the Montana Rocky Mountains, they become unlikely friends. Visting whenever he has a case in the area, Castiel's cabin becomes a refuge for Dean when hunting with his Dad, and missing his brother, gets to be too much. For Castiel, he didn't realize how lonely he was until Dean started showing up in his shiny black car, giving him something new and interesting to look forward to.When Dean suddenly goes missing after a threat from a troublemaking fairy, Cas is forced to face not only a powerful entity but also his own growing feelings for his only real friend.  It turns out, doing exactly that, is what got Dean into trouble in the first place.





	Meet Me in Montana

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone. So, I was super excited about this year's RB because of the stunning art I got to work from. I got my first pick at art claims! There was something about this piece of art that just spoke to me and I wanted to write something magical to go along with it. So, [Unforth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unforth), you wonderful soul, I hope I did your beautiful art piece justice with this slightly mystical, pre-canon, pre-series, fic with a bit of a twist. [Unforth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unforth)'s art can be seen at the appropriate place in the story and [HERE](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19372375).
> 
> Many, many thanks to my beta and friend [Ljunattainable](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ljunattainable) who left no stone unturned when she worked on this story for me. I love that I can ask for honesty and that's what I get. Sending love and wine, my friend. Thank you. Many thanks also to [Desirae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/desirae) who read through this for me after I was done my first set of edits. I needed a third set of eyes and she stepped up. Any remaining crap you find is all me.
> 
> Thanks to the moderators. As usual, the Destiel Reverse Bang was a pleasure to participate in. 
> 
> Thanks to you, readers, for coming here to give love to this little story. If something moves you, leave me a comment. I'd love to know your thoughts. Enjoy, Zoelily (Paula)
> 
> *The title of the story comes from the song of the same name written by Paul Davis and recorded by Marie Osmond and Dan Seals back in 1985. The name and lyrics of the song go really well with the fic and it has the added advantage of being something Dean would likely hate and Castiel would probably quite enjoy.

/>

Dean glances around Cas's tiny cabin while he waits for his tea. Though the bare bones never alter - the pine walls and floor, and the simple, yet charming, handmade furniture are familiarly the same every time he stops by - there is always something new to see. Cas's talents are many, from woodworking to knitting and the evidence of his handiwork litters his home cozily. Dean smiles fondly at the scruffy man just a few feet away across the small space, who is currently pouring hot water from a tin kettle into handmade mugs. He wonders, not for the first time, how he ended up lucky enough to be friends with such an engaging and fascinating guy.

“None of that woo woo shit in my tea there, buddy,” Dean teases with just an undercurrent of seriousness. Dean really hates witches. He’s had a few run-ins with them in the years he’s been hunting and even remembers some nasty shit from before when he and Sammy were just kids. It took a little while, but Dean knows with complete certainty that Castiel is nothing like the witches he’s encountered before. Cas is good, and kind, and he has never given Dean any reason not to trust him, but hunting monsters is so ingrained in his psyche that this tiny little smidge of ‘wrong’ sneaks it’s way in sometimes even as hard as he tries to push it away.

“Dean,” Cas sighs, rolling his eyes at his friend, “you know I don’t use magic for mundane things like household chores and I would never ‘woo woo’ your tea.”

Dean can't help but chuckle; as much at Cas's use of finger quotes as at his usual formal speech. He shakes his head. Cas is an odd one.

“I still can’t believe you got me drinkin’ tea, Cas.”

Dean gives the air around him an experimental sniff. “Mmm, orange,” he says, definitely on board with that. “Smells good.”

Cas carries the steaming mugs to the pine table and sets Dean’s down beside his elbow. Dean helps himself to a generous dollop of honey from the jar on the table, giving his tea a gentle stir and blowing on the steam that curls up in a fragrant swirl from the top of his mug. His first sip is tentative, concerned more for the temperature than the taste, and he’s unsurprised at the slight burn on his lips and tongue. The burst of citrus, ginger, and something else, cloves maybe, that follows is definitely a surprise and Dean smiles at Cas's eager face.

“I hope that pleased look means that you like it,” Cas says, never taking his hopeful, bright eyes off of Dean’s face.

“It’s really good,” he replies, meaning it. He takes another, larger sip to prove his point. “I love the spiciness. It goes well with the orange.”

“Thank you, Dean.” Cas lowers his head for a moment looking a little flustered but he looks up again and takes a large gulp from his own mug.

“I haven’t seen you for quite some time,” Cas continues, crossing his arms on the table and settling in for a comfortable visit.

Dean feels himself relax for the first time in weeks...maybe even months. Hunting the things that go bump in the night, sleeping in dingy motels, teaming up with Dad once in a while to chase down a lead on the thing that killed his mom, doesn’t leave much time for relaxation. He hustles the odd game of pool and prevents himself from going completely crazy with loneliness with a hook-up from the nearest dive bar or truck stop here and there. He thinks about Cas, always patiently here in his forest whenever Dean happens to be nearby. Cas's presence almost instantly releases some of his stress. He really does enjoy it when he can work in a chance to visit.

“Been awhile since I’ve had a case anywhere close,” Dean answers with a shrug and a smile. “Gotta go where the monsters are, I suppose.”

“Your job does dictate that, yes,” Cas agrees with a playful smile, hugging his tea with both hands. Dean can’t help but relax even more now that he’s here and he and Cas can spend some time just shooting the shit and he can blank out the day to day grind of existing on the road.

“What is it that brings you to my neck of the woods this time?” Cas asks, looking genuinely interested in hearing about what Dean’s up to in Northwestern Montana. It’s a beautiful part of the country, but it’s remote and sparsely populated so Dean’s particular skill set isn’t often required.

Dean takes the time to describe his most recent hunt in full detail. The werewolf trio had been a struggle for one guy, but he’d been damn proud of himself when he got the drop on them and managed to take out all three with minimal scratches and bruises. Truth is, he got pretty lucky, but his dad don’t know that, and neither does Cas. His friend is a rapt audience, nodding and gasping in all the right places. Cas looks proud and impressed by the end of his retelling and Dean can only hope his father will feel the same when he repeats the same tale for him the next time they see each other. His dad’s been riding his ass more than usual lately and it’s been nagging at Dean since they last parted ways. He’s noticed John Winchester wasting more time and money at the local bars when they work cases together recently, in the name of research, of course, and he’s sure that and his sour mood is no doubt related.

Cas seems to pick up on Dean’s change of tempo. “What’s wrong, Dean,” he asks, “you were so excited a moment ago and now you look like someone took your favorite toy away.”

Dean shrugs his shoulders, knowing Cas would happily listen to him grumble about his dad’s hard-ass rules and stupid decisions, and he’d probably even empathize, but Dean’s not one for sharing and caring. ‘Chick-flick moments’ were always more Sammy’s style. “I’m good, Cas. Just tired from the drive I guess,” he lies. Maybe he can even believe it himself for a blessed little while if he hangs out here long enough.

“You weren’t planning on going any further this evening were you?” Cas asks. Dean can see he’s concerned but maybe it’s wishful thinking that he can hear a tinge of hope in Cas's question.

“Naw. I’m beat,” he says just as a yawn catches up to him and escapes loudly. “See?”

Cas laughs and Dean can’t help but smile at the way his eyes scrunch up and wrinkle at the corners. Yeah, he can definitely leave sometime tomorrow so he can spend a little more here where his real life doesn’t exist.

Dean crashes on Castiel’s couch as he has many times in the couple of years they’ve known each other. As he deftly threads his fingers through the strands of yarn making up the familiar crocheted throw he’s burritoed in, the repetitive motion slows his thoughts enough to try and prod at them. The lavender scent of something Cas has burning permeates the air and Dean finds it calming and pleasant. He sinks into a contented space and ponders how grounding it feels to be here in this little log cabin in the forest, nestled in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains. He’s never really let himself think about what it would be like to have this kind of permanence. Dean’s life has always been on the road, save the occasional extended-stay, just long enough to start getting comfortable with school and friends, only to get yanked away again the next time Dad got a lead or did something stupid. Is a home something he even wants? Give up hunting? Live the apple pie life out there somewhere in clueless America? Could he even settle down like that knowing what he knows about what really goes bump in the night?

Trying to get back to the relaxed place he was before, Dean singles out the things he knows he wants right now out of life and lists them, not in any real order, although he’s unsurprised at the first one that comes to mind, his father’s approval.

Well, he doesn’t have much to unpack there. Even though he often gives himself shit for being twenty-four and still living a life mostly dictated by his dad, he doesn’t know how not to care about John Winchester’s opinion of his eldest son. The older he gets, and the more time he spends away from his father, the more he realizes he needs to figure out who he is when he steps out of his dad’s shadow. He knows it’s a process, but he eventually needs to take the first step. Figuring out what that step is, now that’s the big question mark.

He also secretly aches for a better relationship with Sammy. That’s a hard one. Dean’s eyebrows crease as he thinks about his little brother, a brother he hasn’t seen and barely spoken to in almost two years. Dean had sided with Dad when Sam stormed off to College at eighteen. He got it. He appreciated Sam’s reasons for wanting out even if he’d never told him. Dean understood about the fighting and the needing something different, but they’d been a team, he and Sam, and Dean just couldn’t imagine life without him; so, when Sam said he was leaving, Dean’s first instinct was to lash out. He’d felt like he was being deserted - left to deal with their father alone. And now, after all this time, can he even make amends? Is it too late to say he’s sorry?

Dean’s list continues with Castiel being part of his life because he knows he wants that, and Dean is very suddenly wide awake, the effect of the essential oils and the peace from the blankets over in an instant. Where the fuck did that come from? Cas is his best friend. His only friend. Dean sits up, fighting with the throw that had been wrapped so snuggly around his body. Cas's handiwork no doubt. Cas and his quilts and his essential oils and his woo woo teas. Dean is suddenly feeling embarrassed and upset and frustrated and angry at himself and Cas and his Dad and hell he doesn’t even know.

“I told you I don’t woo woo your tea,” Cas grumbles, appearing from the direction of his bedroom looking rumpled and sleepy. “What happened, Dean? What are you doing up?”

Shit. He’d said that out loud. “Just a weird dream. Uh, nothing to worry about. Really. ” Dean stammers as he grabs at the throw that had eventually fallen to the floor in the struggle, suddenly realizing he’s standing in his boxers in Cas's living room. Why that would bother him suddenly, he has no idea, but he feels strangely naked in front of Cas and he would rather be a bit more covered.

“I’m feeling pretty awake now actually,” he says as he grabs for his jeans and tries to stuff his foot in without either letting go of the crocheted thing or stumbling over his own feet. “Maybe I’ll just head out tonight after all. Skip all the traffic through Kalispell that way.”

Castiel looks on, stunned, clearly not caught up. “You’re leaving?”

“Uh, yeah,” Dean replies, still struggling with his clothes, realizing his flannel is inside out. Escape. Yes, that’s what he needs to do right now. “I’m gonna get going.”

Cas just nods, his sleep-mussed hair sticking out in every possible direction. Dean almost second-guesses his decision, but fuck, that reaction is exactly why he’s leaving to begin with. He pulls Cas into a quick hug and then looks into his impossibly blue eyes.

“I’ll see you next time I’m out this way, Cas”

“Of course, Dean,” Cas replies with his stoic half smile and tired eyes.

When Dean looks in the rearview mirror and sees Cas hold his hand up to wave stiffly, for the second time, it’s all Dean can do to stop himself from finding a place on the narrow wooded road to turn around.

***

Castiel watches the sleek black car until it disappears into the starless night. A wave of loneliness washes over him as he realizes that, once again, Dean is gone with no form of contact. He shakes his head and chastises himself. There’s no point in getting all worked up over something you can’t have, Castiel.

He knows his and Dean’s worlds rarely intersect and when they do it could be under dangerous circumstances. That’s how they met after all. If it hadn’t been for the rogue vampire that Dean had tracked into Cas's forest almost two years ago, they never would have met at all. Once Cas had helped Dean dispose of the body, they’d gone back to his cabin and he’d made Dean his first cup of tea, and told his first little white lie. He had ‘woo-woo’d’ that one particular cup of Dean’s tea, just with something to settle him down a little bit. Dean was a tangled mess of emotions. Even Cas, with his limited empath abilities, could work that out easily. His second lie was one of omission. There was no way Dean would have accepted him so wholeheartedly from the beginning had he known Cas was a Witch. That came later.

Dean had opened up to him that first night. Whether it was from the tea, or the overflowing adrenalin rush of what turned out to be his first hunt without his father present, Dean had shared with Cas all about his Dad’s high expectations and how he’d given himself purpose by making sure his little brother had the best life possible. Sam had just left for Stanford the week before and Dean was angry and terrified.

Cas thinks back to how much better Dean is now, but he still has so much on his mind, especially all the unearned loyalty and ridiculous toxic masculinity his Dad forces upon him. Just another reason Castiel should stop letting his thoughts drift in directions they shouldn’t.

Stepping through the entrance way after his little pep talk, Castiel shuts the door behind himself before looking up to see a woman with shimmering lavender eyes perched on his pine table.

“Meg,” Castiel mutters under his breath, surmising a visit from the beautiful, yet mischievous fairy was unlikely to be a good thing.

“What are you doing in my house?” He asks.

Meg has herself shaded with a partial glamour for his benefit, despite him having seen her true form. Castiel wonders if it’s perhaps due to her being in his personal space. He’s not up on the laws and covenants of the fairy realm. In reality, her skin is the same intense sparkling lavender as her eyes, and the gossamer silver wings that flutter from her shoulder blades are a striking contrast to the mane of chestnut hair that hangs in waves down her back. Even clothed and appearing completely human barring her eyes, Meg is always a force to be reckoned with and Castiel doesn’t take her presence lightly. She raises her eyebrow and lifts her shoulders, clearly asking for Cas's undivided attention.

“Oh, you’re so easily worked up, Castiel. Let down your guard for a moment won’t you,” Meg teases, pointing at him with one slender finger. “What makes you think I didn’t just drop by for a cup of your famous tea?”

Castiel rolls his eyes at Meg’s theatrics. “Meg, you have never set foot in my house in all of the many, many years I’ve made my home in this forest, so excuse me if I can only assume you want something more than tea.”

Meg slinks off the table, her flimsy lace skirt hitching up behind her and her leather boots tapping as they touch down on Castiel’s shiny wood floor. She crosses her arms in front of her body and stands brazenly, looking up into his eyes very much like the demon minx he knows her to be. “You have something the queen wants, Castiel. I’ve been sent to make a trade.”

Castiel is genuinely surprised and he’s positive the confusion shows on his face. He’s a Green Witch. His healing and magic are granted to him in return for being a caretaker to the forest he calls home. He can’t think of anything he owns that the fairy queen could possibly want.

“Una has access to practically anything she could possibly desire, what do I have that she wants so badly?”

Meg switches her hands to her hips and her eyes deepen to a royal purple. “It is not precisely something you have in your possession, Castiel, and I suggest you speak of the queen with due respect. She is Una, queen of the Fairies and head of the Seelie Court.

“We cooperate because keeping the forest safe and thriving is our common goal, but Una has not always earned my respect. Her methods are often suspect and I do not trust her. As such, when not in her presence, I will refer to her how I please.” Castiel was tired and not feeling his best and really he just wanted Meg to say her piece and leave him alone. “Now. Why are you here, Meg.”

“The Seelie queen wants Dean Winchester.”

 ***

Dean makes it into Kalispell just before midnight and as he’d suspected, traffic is nearly nonexistent. As he rumbles through town, he considers the lonely hours of classic rock and dark open interstate, his Baby’s tires eating up the miles as he heads south until daylight. The idea doesn’t give him the sense of peace it normally would. The flickering neon sign of a roadside bar, barely holding out long enough to advertise ‘Coors Light’, catches Dean’s attention and he maneuvers the dusty car into the nearly empty gravel parking lot. As he sits and listens to the tick of the engine as it cools, Dean takes in the muted expanse of baby’s hood under the red and white neon lights, intermittent with the buzz of insects and electricity. His Dad’s old ‘67 Impala is Dean’s only worldly possession and he vows to give her a bath in the morning. She needs it after the mountain roads.

The bar is typical and exactly what Dean needs. Dimly lit and thick with dust - a mix and match decor of metal signs and cardboard coasters and a long polished bar stained with years of drink rings and cigarette burns. The gruff-looking bartender gives Dean a curt nod from the far end of the bar when he drags a stool between his legs and perches on it.

‘What can I get you?”

“Gimme a Jack,” Dean says, wasting no time tipping back the whiskey and pushing his glass forward for a refill. “I’ll take a PBR too, man.”

“You got it,” the bartender calls over his shoulder as he reaches under the bar to grab Dean’s beer. He pops the cap and slides it towards Dean. “Rough night?”

“Could say that,” Dean replies turning away. He’s not in the mood for idle chit chat.

 The beer is cool going down his throat. The whiskey burns but he needs it to help summon the courage to face the Castiel-shaped elephant in his head.

Dean swivels his body so he’s facing the few occupied tables and picks at the peeling label on his beer bottle while he checks out his surroundings. A couple in the corner are definitely pissed at each other about something. She’s got her arms crossed over her chest, her hair is wild like she’s been shoving her fingers through it all night, and she hasn’t touched her glass of white wine. He’s looking very much like a man guilty of all kinds of sins, slumping in his seat, barely paying her any attention while he tips back the last dredges of his beer. Dean has to wonder how many times this exact scene has played out before to come to this and how many times it will again.

Just below a montage of black and white photos depicting the local area in the fifties and sixties, there are two women deep in conversation about something on their phones. Pretty, both of them. The darker haired one glances up and catches him staring. As he goes to turn away, she winks at him.

‘Still got it!’ Dean congratulates himself as he finishes looking around the room, taking another swig of his beer. He’s about to ask the guy behind the bar for another when he feels a light tap on his shoulder. He turns slowly, knowing exactly who he’ll see.

“Hi, handsome,” she says, wasting no time hopping up on the stool beside him. She’s tiny, but Dean can tell by the glint in her sparkling brown eyes that she means business. He knows the type. A deceiving, delicate exterior with a give-em-shit, rough and tumble attitude underneath. Probably grew up with a couple of older brothers.

“Hey,” Dean answers, trying to dig up some interest that he figures must be hiding somewhere but he’s honestly just not feeling it tonight. He’s not rude though. His Dad would have his hide. “You got a name, sweetheart?

“Ciara, but friends call me Ci Ci, or just Ci.”

“So am I being presumptuous if I call you Ci?” Dean asks, slipping into the Dean Winchester persona that shamelessly flirts with women in bars even if he has no intention of leaving with them.

“Yeah, you seem friendly enough,” Ci answers, leaning up against the bar and crossing her legs, causing her chest to arch towards Dean. “Besides, we don’t see a lot of young, hot strangers around here. I’m not letting you outta my sight.”

Dean recognizes what he’s getting himself into. Ci’s beautiful, all dark hair and attitude, but he has someone else on his mind tonight and a quick fuck with a curvaceous bar-bunny isn’t gonna fix it, no matter how much he wishes it would.

“Actually, I think it’s time for me to hit the road,” Dean says, sliding his hand in his pocket for baby’s keys. “I prefer to drive at night when there’s less traffic.” Fuck, if his Dad could hear him now he’d think he’d gone insane, turning down a pretty girl in a bar.

Ci clamps a hand down on Dean’s shoulder and he stops. He feels a little light-headed actually, so he sits back down on the stool heavily.

Dean studies Ciara’s face and sways a little. The last thing he thinks about as his thoughts become hazy and his vision begins to swim is that he could’ve sworn her eyes were brown and not that weird shade of purple.

***

Castiel is furious! He’s already paced the short distance between his kitchen and living room enough times he’s surprised he hasn’t worn down the wood. He’s had two cups of chamomile tea and still, he would probably strangle Una with his bare hands if she were standing in front of him at this moment. Castiel doesn’t condone violence, usually, but for this, he will make an exception.

Once she’d finally gotten to the point, Meg had been quite graphic about what exactly the Seelie queen wanted Dean for. Castiel finds his fists clenching at his sides again just thinking about it. By Meg’s account, Una had noticed him coming and going from Castiel’s cabin a few times and decided Dean had to belong to her. In her eyes, she needed to take him from Castiel and had sent Meg to offer him a trade. Meg had teased him relentlessly about Dean and his growing feelings. How had she known? He barely knew. First Meg getting him all riled up about Dean and they finding out Una plans to just snatch him away anyway.

Castiel shakes his head at the audacity of the queen. What gives her the right? Thinking he’d be willing to trade more powerful magic for Dean? Castiel is happy with his magic being tethered to the forest. That’s all he’s ever known. Did Una really think he could be tempted to trade her Dean by offering to free his magic for him to use anywhere? Even if Dean were Castiel’s to…” he shakes his head. This whole thing is just ridiculous and insulting.

Castiel finally makes his way outside. The forest is just waking and the air is morning-damp and easy to breathe. He sucks in giant lungfuls and feels the calming vibration of the forest energy fill his body and relax his mind. As a Green Witch, Castiel is connected to the forest by a powerful force. That same force that feeds his magic also feeds the trees and plants and is harvested by the Fairies to charge their elemental powers.

Everyone coexists, even in times of dissent. As Castiel sits on his bottom step and watches the first sliver of sunlight poke through the towering evergreens and over the mountain tops. The flickering light through the trees dapples on the logs of Castiel’s cabin and shimmers like diamonds on the damp wild grass surrounding it. The natural beauty calms him but it doesn’t solve his immediate dilemma. He has no idea what to do about the fairy queen and needs to think of a way to warn Dean.

***

Dean’s head is fucking pounding. It has to be a solid five minutes before he’s confident he can open his eyes without the room spinning or him losing the contents of his stomach, or possibly both.

He does not remember drinking that much last night, but everything after meeting Ciara at the bar is kinda fuzz — Ciara! Dean suddenly becomes startlingly aware of his surroundings.

Although he is on a bed, it’s very clearly not one he recognizes. Dean’s fingers slip into what can only be the softest bedspread he’s ever touched. He actually has to stifle a moan at how it glides and spills under the pads of his fingers, almost slippery. He barely gets a chance to appreciate the sensation as another wave of nausea threatens to pull Dean under.

A few deep calming breaths later, Dean has again cracked his eyelids enough to start investigating where he is and how the hell that bitch, Ci, or whatever her stupid friends call her, got him here. He seems to be underground if the hardy roots up the walls, and the earthy scent of petrichor and pollen, are to be believed. He’s in some kind of epically comfortable bed in a damn cavern under the forest floor. Son of a bitch. He should’ve known something was up with that Ciara.

Dean slowly presses his body into a sitting position, gauging how his head and gut react, deeming them both stable for now. From the clearer vantage point, he can make out the intricate details of the way the roots have twisted and braided together to create trellis walls for mountain wildflowers that are somehow blooming underground. There are tiny lights twinkling on the ceiling with no visible source - just thousands of pinpricks of light, shimmering to create a galaxy of stars. He thinks back to the last thing he remembers at the bar, taking to Ciara, getting ready to leave, sitting on the stool, looking in her blue, no purple… FAIRIES? It made perfect sense. It would explain where he is, and how Ciara got him here. What it doesn’t explain is why.

The effects of whatever Ciara used on him seem to be wearing off. Dean feels much stronger and more level-headed as he manages to wrangle his way off the slippery bedding which looks almost as liquid as it feels. It turns out getting in and out of it takes quite the fucking effort.

Finally standing, he reaches for his phone. He knows as soon as he flips it open that he won’t see any bars. Snapping it closed and shoving it back in his pocket he berates himself for even considering it. Who would he call anyway? Dad? He can just imagine explaining this one. ‘Hey, Dad. I’ve been captured by fairies somewhere in the Flathead National Forest, Montana. Can you swing by and help me out?’ Yeah, probably a good thing he has no bars. He shakes his head. The pungent smell of the flowers is giving him a headache.

Dean walks around the room looking for any sign of an exit but from what he can see, he’s under a giant dome of roots and flowers with no apparent door. He presses his fingers to his temples then back through his hair. What the fuck? None of this even makes sense. This isn’t connected to his case, so did he just stumble into something else by accident? He doesn’t generally believe in accidents.

Creaking branches and the feeling of static in the air has Dean suddenly on alert. A throat clears behind him. It’s instinct to reach for his weapon as his turns even though he knows he won’t find it. Empty handed, he comes face to face with two women. One he knows, although Ciara looks much different than the last time Dean saw her.

“You looked less like grape cotton candy than the last time I saw you, Ciara. Wings are a nice touch.”

“Thank you. I like them. Name’s Meg actually, and you were less of a smartass last time I saw you.”

“Who’s your friend?” Dean asks, turning his attention to the taller, blonde woman beside Meg. She’s willowy and fair with electric green eyes and pink shimmering wings. Dean is mesmerized by her almost instantly. Her pearlescent white dress seems to be made from the same fabric as the bedcovers and Dean realizes his hand has already reached out to touch it. He snaps it back to his side and shakes his head to gain back his senses. He looks to Meg for an answer to his question.

Meg smiles at him wickedly. “You should pay proper respects, Dean Winchester. You’re in the esteemed presence of Seelie queen Una, queen of the Forest Fairies.”

Dean rolls his eyes. So apparently he was right about the fairies. No surprise there.

“And if I don’t?”

All of a sudden Dean finds himself on his knees with his forehead touching the surprisingly clean floor at the fairy queen’s feet. Meg’s answer left no room for argument.

“I don’t recommend you try finding out where crossing the queen gets you.”

Dean figures it can’t hurt to follow along for now. He doesn’t exactly have a plan B, so he stays put until Meg tells him he can stand but he needs to keep his head bowed. He’s surprised when the fairy queen finally moves, reaching her slender finger out to gently tip his chin up so their eyes meet. The trickle of energy that fans through his body from her touch is cool and soothing like someone injected menthol into every one of his veins. He feels hyper-aware and bright inside.

“What did you just do to me?” He demands, all too familiar with the idea that if something feels good in this life, it’s probably the complete opposite.

When she speaks for the first time, Dean can only describe Una’s voice as melodic. It chimes and strums and pulls Dean back in with every word and syllable. He knows she has him spellbound in some way, but it doesn’t matter that much right this minute.

“I haven’t done a thing,” Una insists, “One of the greatest gifts of being the Seelie queen, along with my irresistible beauty, is my incredible persuasiveness,” she says, taking a step closer and looking Dean straight in the eye, “I generally get what I want, Dean Winchester.”

Dean swallows, stares directly into the queen’s emerald eyes and swallows again. He knows if he has any chance of figuring out what the hell is going on here, he needs to gain back some perspective. He closes his eyes and revels in the blackness while he counts to three. When he opens them, he immediately asks. “What is it you want with me?”

Queen Una’s smile softens and her wings flutter as if they have an independent mind. She reaches to touch his face. He tries not to flinch or moan when she trails her finger from his lips, over his chin, down his neck to the collar of the t-shirt he’s wearing under his flannel. She stops then lifts his chin again and kisses him chastely. “I want you.”

Dean watches, stunned, as queen Una and Meg turn and leave through an obvious thatched door that definitely wasn’t there before. As the door disappears before his eyes, his lips begin to tingle with the same electric feeling he’d felt when Una had first touched him.

Mother fuck! Dean mutters under his breath. How the hell is he gonna get out of this? He flops down on the bed on his back and throws his hands back over his head. There has to be something.

***

After another 20 minutes of pacing, Cas decides he can’t just sit around and do nothing if there’s a possibility Dean could be in trouble. Not all of the fairies are as troublesome as Meg and he has his sources after having shared the forest with them for so long. Cas hurriedly walks the familiar path to the circle of magnificent cedars that mark the portal to fairyland. He turns toward the sun, finally rising over the majestic Rocky Mountains. “Find the ‘tween places,” he remembers his fairy friend, Balthazar, telling him the first time they’d entered the portal together.

Castiel stands at the center of the circle of towering evergreens and stares due east at the slice of blackness that marks the line ‘tween earth and sun. The line begins to ripple and turn a blazing white. Castiel always feels pulled towards the portal as it extends to the ground. It’s a magnificent thing; a shimmering, rippling, rip in the air made of fairy dust and elemental energy. He reaches out, pushing his fingers into the light and welcomes the prickles of cold that envelope him as he steps the rest of the way through.

“Castiel!’ Balthazar whispers, in obvious surprise. “What on Earth brings you down here? Coming to fairyland without an invitation is a punishable offense, you know?”

“Are you going to turn me in?”

“Of course not you idiot but that doesn’t mean you’re not stupid for doing so.”

Balthazar grabs Castiel by the arm and drags him through what Castiel can only liken to a crystalline tunnel. Having never been beyond the entrance before, Castiel is mesmerized by the beauty of it. They stop randomly and a tiny thatched door appears on the tunnel wall. Castiel doesn’t have time to process the magic door because he’s being pushed through it into a small room with some empty shelves along one wall and very little else. Once inside, Balthazar closes the door behind them and Castiel watches as it once again just disappears.

“Okay, what’s with the door?”

“Entrances and exits work similarly to the portal but without the gimmicks. Looking for something between worlds, between places, between rooms. If you can see it, you can will it to be.”

“But if someone didn’t know that?”

“They’d be stuck.”

Castiel shakes his head. That’s exactly the kind of thing he’s worried about. He leans up against the wall and crosses his arms. He’s so worried for Dean that it’s making his chest ache. Of all the times for him to have to face his growing feelings for his dear friend, why does it have to be now?

He smiles at Balthazar in his iridescent v-neck robe and silver flower crown. As a Portal Guard, Balthazar’s uniform is regal and demands respect. He, of course, plays the part flawlessly.

“Thank you for helping me. I know it’s risky for you.”

“I’d be happier if I knew what I was helping you do,” Balthazar says, looking at Castiel expectantly.

Castiel trusts Balthazar, and it’s likely he could have information that Castiel could use to find Dean. The decision to enlist his further assistance is an easy one.

“Do you know if the queen is holding someone by the name of Dean Winchester?”

Balthazar’s perfectly manicured silver brows go up. “What do you know about Winchester? Una is obsessed with this human - a hunter. She won’t shut up about how she’s going to make him her mate and have him help her preside over the Seelie Court.”

“Over my dead body,” Castiel grumbles, giving himself and his intentions away instantly.

“Oh, I see what we have going on here,” Balthazar teases, a giddy smile on his face. “Our quiet, humble Green Witch has himself a crush on the fairy queen’s boy-toy. For heaven’s sakes, Castiel, I didn’t realize you had it in you, you sly one.”

Castiel can feel himself flushing at Balthazar’s words so he swiftly changes the subject back to why he’s here in fairyland. “None of that is of import right now, Balthazar. I need to know where to find him. Dean needs to know what’s going on.”

Balthazar thinks a minute. Castiel takes the time to regulate his breathing and try to calm his mind. He hasn’t stopped to consider the consequences of his actions since he left his cabin, and he wonders if now’s the time to do that. He knows he’s taking a risk for himself sneaking into fairyland but then his thoughts turn to Dean’s face, that beautiful face, freckled from the sun, sitting across from him at his table just last night and he knows he’s going ahead with this half-baked plan, consequences be damned.

Cas's epiphany is interrupted by Balthazar’s voice.

“I’m quite sure I can get you to where she’s keeping him, darling, but that’s the best I can do. Anything beyond that and I’ll be setting myself up for more trouble than I’m willing to bring down on myself, even for your sweet cheeks, my friend.”

Castiel is relieved to get that much. “That’s more than enough,” he says quickly. “You know I’ll repay you someday.“

Balthazar chuckles. “I have no doubt we’ll work something out, Castiel. Now, let’s not keep your friend, Dean, waiting.

The tunnels all look the same to Castiel, all sparkling crystal with the tiny lights that twinkle from the high ceilings. Fairies must have some innate sense of direction to be able to find their way around the maze of twists and turns. They pass a few fairy folk but most don’t pay much attention since Castiel is with Balthazar. Castiel also suspects he may have a forest aura about him that makes him unthreatening.

Balthazar stops at a random point. Castiel looks around to see if anything makes it unique but there’s nothing. It takes a little longer for the door to appear this time. When it does, it’s much larger and more ornate. The thatching is more deliberate like someone had taken more care in making it. This door is clearly for a more important room.

Balthazar stands to the side to let Castiel pass. “This is where I wish you well, darling. I have no idea if you know what the hell you’re doing, but I hope he’s worth it.”

Castiel has no doubt in his mind that he is.

Thank you, Balthazar,” Castiel says, grasping both of his friend’s hands. “I mean it.”

The moment Castiel lets go of Balthazar’s hands, he’s gone and Castiel is standing in an open doorway alone. There’s no sense wasting time, he thinks, as nervous as he is about what he’ll find on the other side, so he steps into the room only to see Dean sprawled on his back on a luxurious looking bed, with his arms tossed above his head, sound asleep. Castiel rushes forward, having to see for himself that Dean is unhurt, realizing too late that the door would disappear as soon as he moved.

 ***

Dean’s eyes flutter open to the feeling of someone hovering over him. He’s about to take his kneecap to whoever it is when his eyes fully open just in time to see concerned blue eyes staring down at him.

“Cas?” he croaks, then coughs to clear his throat of sleep cobwebs. “How did you get in here? How did you even know I was here?”

Dean has never seen anything like the relief he sees in Castiel’s face, the face just inches from his own where Cas is gripping his shoulders as if he’s going to up and disappear, which based on what happened the last time they’d seen each other, was a real possibility in Cas's eyes. Dean still feels pretty shitty for that, actually.

Cas is actually shaking as he answers. “Meg came to see me, wanting my help in capturing you for the fairy queen.” He gets a little stronger when he says, “When I told her no, I began to realize you were in danger.”

Dean reaches up to cup Castiel’s face in his palm. “So you came looking for me.”

Cas nods and smiles weakly.

“You feel this, Cas? It’s not just me?” Dean asks, his heart pounding in his chest.

“I think since the first day we met,” Cas admits almost shyly. “I just never dreamed you would ever want this with me.”

“It’s something I’ve only recently come to realize I want myself.”

Dean rolls to his side, pulling Cas with him, lifting his feet from the floor. Cas goes willingly and they lay on the cloud-like bed, each taking the time to learn each others’ faces by the pads of their fingers.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to figure it out, Cas.”

“Don’t be,” Cas replies. “We’ll have lots of time.”

Dean wishes he were as confident in that fact as Cas.

They haven’t kissed and they haven’t talked about how they’re getting out of here. Dean’s not sure why they haven’t done the first one but he’s aching for it. Now that he’s positive he and Castiel are on the same page, he’s been half-hard in his jeans since almost the moment he woke up. They’ve discussed exactly what brought both of them into the situation they’re in right now. He’s pretty sure the reason they haven’t talked about an escape plan is that there isn’t one. Neither of them has the first Goddamn idea of how to get out this. Cas knows how the doors work but without fairy magic, the knowledge doesn’t help them.

Now, as they lay facing each other in the silence, lit by the twinkling of fairy lights, Dean is drawn to Cas like a lighthouse in a storm. Castiel reaches behind Dean’s neck and slides his fingers up through the tiny hairs at his nape. Dean shivers as Cas's lips finally touch his, just a gentle press leaving him gasping for more. The more comes seconds later when Castiel’s lips are back at a better angle, slotted against Dean’s to tease them open, tilting his head to the side.

Dean is lost in the slide and press of kissing Castiel, when Cas pulls back, kissing him once, twice, and then on the forehead.

“How long have you actually felt like this? You said it was new.” Cas asks.

It should be a simple question. Dean knows he’s been falling for Cas for a while now that he thinks back on it, but it never occurred to him that that’s what it actually was, he supposes. He didn’t have the most socially aware upbringing. Ugh, his Dad. He doesn’t even want to think about that right now.

“Uh, a while, I guess. I just don’t think I realized it until, uh recently.”

“Last night?”

“Yeah, last night,” Dean admits sheepishly.

“Is that why you ran?”

Dean nods. He doesn’t trust himself to answer but he knows Cas knows anyway. Cas kisses him again, tenderly this time, like he cherishes Dean and fuck if Dean can’t feel all of it.

“I wish you’d stayed and talked to me. We could’ve worked it out together. Will you tell me what scared you so much?”

Dean looks into the bright eyes of the most incredible man, witch, healer, friend, and knows without a doubt he can trust him to keep and bear his deepest secrets and carry his darkest fears.

“I’ve never really acted on any feelings for boys, uh, men before. If my Dad finds out he’ll go ballistic, like I don’t wanna imagine.”

Dean can’t even look at Cas. It all sounds so stupid when he says it out loud like his Dad should have any say in anything he does, but no one gets it.

“I understand the influence your father has had over your life, Dean,” Cas replies, teasing his fingers through the short strands of Dean’s hair. It’s like now that he’s been given permission to touch, he can’t stop, and Dean’s loving every minute of it. “It’s difficult to break free of those expectations we put upon ourselves that stem from the actions of those who are supposed to love us the most.”

“I can’t tell him.”

“I would never ask you to, Dean,” Castiel says, with complete honesty in his eyes. “But what brought all of this to a head last night?”

“I was just laying there on your couch, thinking about how nice it is, to have a place, you know, to just call home?” Dean can see that he still has Cas's full attention so he continues. “Then, I just started thinking about the things I want out of life, and well...”

“I was on that list.”

“You were definitely on that list, Cas, and I gotta be honest, first reaction, it scared the hell outta me, but now that there’s a chance of losing you.”

Dean launches himself at Cas, kissing him with abandon. This time, it’s Dean that pushes further, pressing his tongue to the seam of Cas's lips and plunging in when Cas opens for him. Within minutes, they’re both panting and hard, with kiss-swollen lips and uncomfortable jeans, they’re slowly rocking against each other, not quite sure whether to take things further, but neither willing to stop.

Dean manages to pull himself together enough to stop kissing for a moment, although there’s nothing short of a natural disaster or Cas telling him to stop that’s gonna slow the roll of his hips right now.

“What are we doing, Cas?” Dean stutters out. “I’ve never done shit with a guy before, but baby, this feels really fucking amazing and if we don’t stop I’m gonna come in my jeans. Fuck.” he wheezes. “I don’t think I’ve done that since I was thirteen.”

Cas response is crystal clear. He goes straight for Dean’s belt buckle. “Less talking. More coming.”

Dean is on board. He reaches for Cas's belt, sans buckle thankfully, and undoes Cas pants. They sigh simultaneously when they both reach bare skin, and set a fast pace. Dean knows, as worked up as he already is, it’s nothing short of a miracle he hasn’t blown his load already. They resume the kissing until they’re too uncoordinated and then stare into each other’s eyes as they come, Dean first, and Cas shortly after, intentionally marking each other’s bellies with seed. The silence as they come down from their orgasm highs is comfortable and intimate. Even though their current situation is far from ideal, Dean feels content, and happy, which is not something he’s used to. He likes it.

No matter how much he likes it, dried jizz never feels good for long. The questionable-fabric bedspread makes a poor substitute for a washcloth but it’s soft as feathers and gets the job done. Curled in Castiel’s arms feels like somewhere Dean could spend a lot of time, if only there were a way to make that happen. A dose of reality dampens Dean’s mood.

“How are we gonna do this, Cas?”

“I don’t know, Dean. Waiting for Una is really our only option right now.”

Dean shakes his head and slots his fingers with Cas's. “No, I mean this thing we got going on.”

“What I think,” Castiel says as he lifts their clasped hands to his lips and kisses Dean’s knuckles, tenderly, “is that we tackle one problem at a time.”

“So we cross that bridge when we come to it.”

“So to speak, yes,” Cas says with a smile. “I’ve learned to trust what happens in life, Dean. Maybe the fairies captured you so we could finally discover our true feelings. Or, maybe this is just a stroke of crappy luck.” Dean laughs at Cas and kisses him on the nose. “One way or another,” Cas continues, “we’ll make it work. I trust in us.”

“I trust in us, too,” Dean says, snuggling on Cas's chest, pushing all thoughts of escape, his father, their future far from his mind. In the here and now, Dean is in love.

 ***

 “Well isn’t this a surprise.”

Castiel wakes with a start at the sing-song voice he is quite familiar with. He quickly turns to nudge Dean awake, but Dean is already sitting up trying to rub the sleep from his eyes as they both focus their attention on the Seelie queen herself.

“How nice to see you Castiel. I wasn’t expecting you.”

Castiel flinches at the clear implication that he’s broken a rule and she’s well aware of it.

“It seems we have a bit of a situation on our hands.”

So far, neither he nor Dean has said a word and the queen either hasn’t noticed or doesn’t require their input because she just continues.

“I brought Dean Winchester here for a very specific purpose.”

That ends Castiel’s silence. “Yes, you plan to make him your mate.” Castiel can see Dean’s eyes widen as if this were new information to him. “You can’t just take someone from their home just because you decide they’re pretty!”

“Ah ah ah, that will be enough, Castiel. You did not have anything to do with any of this, and now suddenly, here you are.”

 Castiel watches as tiny sparks fly from Una’s fingers as she speaks animatedly with her hands and her voice grows higher and louder. When she tells him to stop, he does. Making her angry is not in their best interests. He may not have any brilliant ideas, but he’s pretty sure bargaining will be much easier if they can all stay calm.

“I can do anything I choose, and it would serve you to remember that,” the fairy queen says with finality but something in her eyes tells Castiel there’s more to come. He decides to wait her out. It turns out, they don’t have to wait long.

“The situation we find ourselves in is most unfortunate, for me anyway.” queen Una motions for Castiel and Dean to stand. Castiel grasps Dean’s hand and they stay side by side as a united front. She walks around them as best she can, her eyes never leaving their joined hands. Eventually, she stops. “It displeases me to find the two of you together. It means, according to Seelie Law, I am unable to take Dean as my mate.”

Castiel’s head snaps up.

“Excuse me? Say what?” Dean asks, beating Castiel to the punch.

“It is clear the two of you have,” the queen scowls, “strong feelings for each other.”

Castiel stands perfectly still, terrified to even hope that this could work in their favor. Dean seems to have the same idea. He’s squeezing Castiel’s hand like a vice and not saying a word.

The hard lines of queen Una’s face soften a little with her next words. “Fairies have always considered love as something sacred - something to be cherished and nourished, never forced apart or intentionally broken.”

“So you can’t take me as a mate,” Dean says, clearly realizing the implication of the queen’s words. “It would come between me and Cas and it’s against your own laws to do that.” Dean pulls Castiel into an enthusiastic hug. Castiel stands there for a moment with his arms at his sides, too stunned to realize what’s going on before he suddenly grins and hugs back with equal force. They cling to each other until a throat clearing reminds them that they’re not alone.

Castiel loosens his hold on Dean but doesn’t let go completely. Dean is keeping him from falling apart right now and he has no intention of losing that connection. He thinks back over the past twelve hours and it still doesn’t quite add up.

“I don’t understand,” Castiel says. Dean’s head quickly turns to look at him, the question in his eyes is obvious. He had no intention of asking why this gift was bestowed upon them; but, Castiel can’t do that. If there’s a loose end, it will eventually unravel, causing a giant mess and Castiel doesn’t want that hanging over their heads.

queen Una focuses her eyes on Castiel and he can feel snap and spark of the energy in the air. Even underground, the superior force of the forest is so apparent and Castiel is fortified by his link to that same energy. He wants answers.

“What I don’t understand is, why the sudden change of heart?”Castiel drops Dean’s arms and approaches Una. “You sent Meg to convince me to help you and she seemed well aware of my feelings for Dean.” Castiel is reaching his boiling point as he thinks back to the conversation with Meg and the way she’d talked about what the queen intended to do with Dean. She used those things to tease him and then turned around and tried to bargain with him. Castiel crowded as close to queen Una’s face as he dared knowing she had home advantage and almost growled. “Why is it that it matters so much now when it didn’t matter at all then?”

Castiel suddenly wonders if he went too far when a burst of white light fills the room, so bright and shimmery that Castiel has to close his eyes. Once the flashing stops, he looks around for Dean, finding him a few feet away staring open-mouthed. When Castiel turns to see what Dean’s looking at, he sees Meg, standing with her arms crossing her bare lavender chest, looking extremely unimpressed.

“Meg. Glad you could join us.” Una says, her usual melodic voice a turbulent symphony. “It seems there may have been some miscommunication. When you offered to speak with the green witch Castiel and enlist his assistance in finding Mr. Winchester, you left out a vital piece of information.”

“Oh? And what would that be?” Meg answers.

The flutter of her wings and deep velvet of her eyes give away Meg’s nerves. Castiel is certain she is hiding something.

“Is there some reason you didn’t inform me of Castiel’s romantic feelings towards Dean, Meg? Una asks, her frustration with Meg apparent in her tone.

“I wasn’t aware of any — ”

Another blast of light has Castiel scrunching his eyes shut yet again. When his vision adjusts this time, he, Dean and the fairy queen are back to being the only ones in the room.

“I must apologize for Meg. She can be difficult.” Una says, “I will deal with her later. She’s not going to back down with an audience.”

Castiel is still not following. “What does Meg get out of lying to you about my feelings for Dean?

The fairy queen moves toward him, her eyes trained on his in an unnerving way. “I suspect, my dear, Castiel, that she was looking to get you.”

Dean pipes up for the first time in a while. “That would make sense. If she had her sights on you, Cas, she’d be happy to be part of something that would get me out of the way.”

Castiel nods. As much as he hates how much Dean has been used as a pawn in all of this, it does seem to be the logical answer.

“So,” Una announces. “In light of these new facts, I don’t really have a choice but to let you both go, although I’m disappointed it didn’t work out for us Dean, you really are quite exquisite. And, Castiel, please refrain from entering my domain uninvited, next time I may not be quite so forgiving.

Castiel is silent. He knows she doesn’t expect an answer. He turns to take Dean’s hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. He wonders how long it will be before she gets someone to escort them out.

“Just one more thing,” the Seelie queen says, her authority back in place. “Don’t forget Castiel, the responsibility of the forest remains yours. Your magical abilities are still tethered to the energy produced by the plants and animals that make this place their home. Your desire to mate does not absolve you of your duty to them.”

He has no intention of shirking his responsibilities.

“Of course.”

He’s just about to explain to Una how seriously he takes his commitment to the forest when everything suddenly goes black and silent and Castiel’s bones feel like ice. He wants to scream, but before he can open his mouth, he’s sitting next to a tree a few hundred yards from his little cabin, just at the edge of the forest. Leaning against the tree is Dean, unconscious or sleeping, Castiel isn’t sure. Probably both, or neither. fairy magic is foreign to him. It appears Una sent them back. He must have some protection from the after-effects of the magic. He hopes Dean just needs to sleep it off.

Castiel sits with his legs crossed and watches Dean. He wonders if he can count the constellations of freckles that smother Dean’s sun-kissed face or if he’ll just lose track when the sun creates more? He wonders at how Dean shifted from being his best friend to his everything in just twenty-four hours?

Tiny green shoots pop out of the ground. As they lengthen, they begin to wind loosely around the tree and anything else within reach, including Dean. Heart-shaped leaves start to uncurl, and finally little blue, cone-like flowers open, and Castiel chuckles at the blatant display the forest has made of his feelings.

 “What’s so funny?”

Castiel looks down at Dean in relief. “Sometimes the forest and I are quite in tune. Right now I believe it’s mocking my feelings for you with all the morning glory vines.”

“That was gonna be my next question. Why am I taking a nap in a flower bed and how the hell did we get out of there?” Dean twists his neck around to take in the myriad of blues. “And what do morning glories have to do with your feelings, now?” Dean shakes his head looking more confused than ever.

“That’s three questions, Dean.” Castiel helps Dean to his feet. The evidence of his strength returning is clear and Castiel is pleased the magic is wearing off so fast. “I’ll tell you about the flowers but the rest can wait until we get back to the cabin.” Dean nods, so Castiel loops his arms around Deans neck.

“Morning glory symbolizes love, but usually with some kind of restrictions. I think the forest was picking up on how much I care about you.

“But…” Dean interjects.

“But,” Castiel sighs, “it also chose morning glory to remind me that we’re not free to be together all of the time.”

“Well, that’s sobering.”

 “Let’s go home, Dean.”

“Where is home, Cas? I basically live in the back of my car.”

“Home is where you are, whenever we’re together.”

Cas links their hands for the short walk back to the cabin.

“What about when we’re not together?” Dean asks.

Castiel smiles gratefully at the scene in front of him. His little home, surrounded by evergreen trees, wildflowers, and backed by the majestic Rocky Mountains. Parked beside it is a shiny black car, courtesy of one more favor from a fairy friend. He even washed it! Castiel really does owe Balthazar big. He turns towards Dean and starts “We’ll cross that — “

“Bridge when we come to it.” Dean finishes for him.

“I trust in us,” Castiel says as he pulls Dean up the steps to the front door. He stops just before crossing the threshold into the start of something he’s pretty sure is going to change his life in an amazing way, and slides his hands into Dean’s hair. He swipes the pads of his thumbs across Dean’s cheeks, delighting at the pink left behind, shining to match the glint in his eyes. Castiel kisses Dean with all the love that he’s feeling in the moment, with all the urgency that’s been building since he realized Dean was missing. When he pulls back, finally assured that Dean is safe and here, at least for now, Castiel steps aside, leaving his hand lingering on the small of Dean’s back.

When Dean steps into the little house, Castiel can’t help but smile at the fond look that comes over his face when he spots his afghan still on the couch exactly where he’d tossed it the night before. Dean turns to Castiel and slots their fingers together, squeezing them softly.

“Yeah, I trust in us too.”

 ***


End file.
